


Old no.7

by Kiraske



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Gore, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Dean in Hell, Demon Dean, F/M, Gore, Heaven vs Hell, Hell, Human Castiel, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraske/pseuds/Kiraske
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in 1957, Dean Winchesters life is turned upside down after his loved ones are taken away from him, so he sells his soul to bring them back where he expects to burn for the rest of eternity, but instead is saved by Sam who has join up with The Devil.<br/>Castiel sold his soul just in time to be caught in the crossfire of a war between Heaven and Hell, during which he will be forced to rely on the demon who hold his soul, Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You got nothin’ and nothin’s got you

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is my first fanfiction, I'll try and update regularly :)

**Chapter one**

 

Dean tried to breathe. _Tried_ being the keyword here, it was very hard to breathe when your lungs were slowly filling up with blood. He huffed out a laugh, coughing as he did so, a gurgle coming from deep in his chest as he tried not to drown. Usually he wouldn't find any  humor in the situation – who would?- but his head was light and he was losing all sense of sanity. He had just been mauled by invisible dogs. Hell hounds to be more exact, but he wasn't exactly focused on what they were called at the moment. No, at the moment he was focused on the barks and howls closing in on him. Why he even ran in the first he didn't know, he knew he couldn't out run death or fate or whatever. He had asked for this. Of course, selling your soul seemed easy and fair enough when your innards weren't almost hanging out your body, skin ripped to shreds. It almost didn't seem worth it. He imagined it now, burning in agony for the rest of eternity. Just the thought of something lasting an eternity seemed unfathomable to him, but he guessed he'd experience it soon enough though.

He listens to the hounds snarling and growling as they sniffed him out, hearing them as they circled around him. He wished he could see them, he imagined what they looked like, mangled and deformed (he figured they would be since they came from **Hell** and all), he tried to grasp a concept of what was about to kill him.

It wasn't long until he felt the fangs of one of them puncturing through the flesh of his leg, feeling -hearing- the bone splintering into shards. Another started working on the bones of his arm, dragging him like a toy, like they were trying to play a game of tug-of-war and he was the rope. He wished they would get it over with, he wondered if the beasts in hell would be as unsympathetic as these, they were obviously taking their time with him.

He didn't know how long it was until he eventually heard a _rip_ then all went black

 

March 1957

 

“It's fine Sam, I'll deal with it myself” Dean sighed, trying his hardest not to let Sam hear how shaky his voice was. He was scared, and angry but mostly terrified.

“It's not fine Dean, this shou-”

“What are we gonna do about it Sam?!” Dean snapped, he didn't want to deal with this, he didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted to go home, lay down with his wife and sleep. But he couldn't do any of that. His house was reduced to ashes now and his wife was lying in a hospital bed struggling to breath with the amount of smoke that had burned it's way down her windpipe and into her lungs.

“We know who did it Dean”

“We don't know shit”

“You're just scared” Sam looked at him pointedly, a challenge rising in his eyes, like he could get Dean to try and prove him wrong, but for once Dean wasn't going to fall for it.

“Of course I'm scared Sam, I've lost almost everything, and I know the police aren't going to do anything, the whole towns against me” Dean sighed, exhausted

“I'm not” Sam said softly, empathy had replaced the previous look in his eyes

“I know Sammy, thank you” Dean replied, and he meant it, Sam was the only one he could trust with anything, now that everyone else was dead or dying

“Then you haven't lost everything, and Cassie is in that room fighting, and when she gets better you're going to be together and you'll both be happy” Sam tried to cheer him up

“Happy? Sam, these past few months has been anything but happy, what makes you think losing my house and her almost dying will change that?”

“Because you'll be living with me, and it'll be alright” Sam smiled reassuringly, it didn't reach his eyes, which did nothing to reassure Dean. But he was to tired to say anything else. His hands hurt where they had been burned moving the wreckage away from Cassie so he could carry her out of the burning house. Their house, which was now scattered and swept along with the wind, nothing more than a big fire pit.

“It'll be alright.” Sam repeated

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was not alright. Cassie had died, her lungs too full of smoke and ash, blocking the oxygen from getting to her brain, and Dean was a wreck. They say alcohol make you numb, and Dean wants to punch whoever said that in their face because if anything it just made him cry louder. Despite that, Dean drank himself sick for the first few days. He felt sorry for Sam who was the one to clean up the puke from the toilet, had to carry Dean from the couch to the bed after coming home from school, and even had to bathe Dean on one occasion. He should buy the kid some flowers or a hair clip or something to show his gratitude.

No one but him and Sam had attended her funeral. Her family had disowned her after she had ran away to marry him. Just another one of the things I had ruined for her Dean thought. It had all seemed so simple then, that they would run away, get married, be happy, have 2.5 kids. They hadn't thought about any consequences, that maybe some people wouldn't be happy with them being happy.

“We have witnesses Dean” Sam said from the spot on the couch he was sprawled on “People who saw them threaten you and Cassie, we can do something.”

“No, we can't Sam. You're just a student, and the police hate me and so does everyone else in this stupid town. No one will take us seriously” God he was so sick of hearing Sam talk about this, they had repeated this conversation every time Dean was sober enough to have it. He knew Sam just wanted to help, he swore that damn kid would help Satan himself if the devil had a sob story.

“Fine” Sam dead panned, surprising Dean with how quickly he gave up the argument, but feeling relived for the time being.

“Fine” He agreed

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Maybe he should have gone to the police. Sure, they probably wouldn't have done much, but it could have prevented this.

Dean stared at his brother, laying stiff in his arms. Dead. The tears had been dripping down his cheeks constantly, just like the rain that fell around them, drenching them and washing the blood in the ground around them. Dean wondered if it would stain the grey concrete of the sidewalk. He hoped it would, a reminder of what this God-forsaken town did to his brother. To his wife. To him. But the rain would probably wash the blood away before it got to staining anything but their clothes, leaving a reminder for him only. He hated the rain, hated how it washed away the blood and tears, hated how it made Sam's body cold so quick, and Sam was _so cold_. But this town didn't deserve a bit of sunshine after this. After they took away all the things that made light in Dean's world, when the brightest things in his life had been ripped away from him. Dead. So maybe it was suitable that the sky was as sad and mournful as Dean was feeling. Maybe there was something in the sky that was as sad about Sam's death as Dean was. Like the world knew something special had been taken away from it. The rain began to fall heavier.

Dean gripped Sam's body tighter, maybe some of his body heat would seep into Sam’s skin, maybe if he just tried Sam's eye would flutter open and everything would be okay again, they'll go back home and argue about what to have for dinner. Dean's knees were hurting, his feet gone numb, shoulders stiff, but the gaping hole in his gut was what hurt the most. Dean wished more rain would fall so that he could drown in it, so that his body could get so drenched and waterlogged that it just simply shut down. And Dean would be happy to die like that, clung to the only thing in his life that he had left, that he'd always had. Dean's body would be stuck to Sam's in their death, and Dean would do nothing more than lay on this concrete deathbed and smile as he waited to join Sam in the afterlife.

But of course life could never be that simple, could never be so forgiving to just let him die. So he bowed his head and he cried.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He had seen it before, hadn't he? He couldn't remember where, maybe one of his brother's books? No, Sam was weird but he wasn't devil-worship weird. This was the kind of stuff that could get you kicked out of a small town like this. The kind of town where marrying a black woman could get your family killed. So where had he seen it? He thought hard but he mind was just blank.

“Hey? Hello? Anything in there, darling?”

Dean snapped out of the trance, startled that a _man_ just called him _darling_. He looked around him, making sure that no one was around to see this. The towns folk had left him alone since Sam died, either they had been too satisfied in killing the people he loved or they wanted him to stay alive in his misery, but he doubted that things would stay that way if someone saw him him dabbling in the occult and apparently homosexuality. Dean had thought about moving ever since Cassie died, his bar was failing and he had flash backs every time he walked on the same side walk Sam was stabbed at, but that would mean moving away from where her and Sammy were buried, and he would put up with this town to be close to them, even if they were just corpses now. He was just glad it was the only place that sold alcohol in this town otherwise he would probably starve to death.

“Uh yeah” He replied dumbly

“Oh for God's sake” the man sighed “Excuse my French” he added

Dean tilted his head, the man didn't swear, maybe it was because he said God? Is that like a swear word for demons? Dean found that ridiculous

“Alright sweetheart, I'm going to go back to my fiery pit in hell and you can stay here and freeze over while you remember how not to be an idiot”

Dean bit back a retort, anyone else he would have cussed out but he had a feeling if he showed a demon that kind of attitude he wouldn't be alive for long. Not that he was going to be anyway, but being killed right off the bat would ruin his plan.

“Wait, wait, I uh... I want to sell my soul” a phrase Dean never thought he would use

“Uh huh, most people who summon a crossroads demon would want to do that” The demon gave him an exasperated look “What is it you want? Money, fame, a hat?”

“I want to bring my brother and wife back from the dead” Dean replied without hesitating

“Sam and Cassie Winchester, am I right?” The demon smiled like he just won something. Dean nodded

“Sorry kid, one person per soul, and no you can't use another soul unless they agree and make a deal of their own”

Deans heart sank, he could only choose one? He didn't think this through properly enough. Mostly because he honestly didn't believe this would work.

It had been several weeks since Sam died, maybe a month or two since Cassie died, he had the funeral (him being the only one to go) and since has been methodically working at the bar, and going home to drink until he passed out. Rinse and repeat. He didn't even know what made him think about how to make a crossroads deal, where he had learned it was a mystery. But he was pretty sure he would drink himself into death soon so he tried it out of desperation. He wasn't overly religious, he was raised to believe in Angels and the devil, that one would look over him and his brother and the other would come bearing everything you'd want in life, but taking it would be accepting only pain in death. But he never believed in God, that someone so mighty and all-powerful could be so... Human. That he could strike down his favourite angel, waste his time with something as simple as humans, and then just let this world slowly go to rot. But maybe even Gods got bored too. Maybe God was a procrastinator.

“Okay, I want Sam back” Dean said, voice shaky. He wanted Cassie, wanted to feel her kiss him and lay in bed together, her beautiful skin against his. But Sam would be better off in this damned world. He could become a lawyer and fight for other people, help them like he loves to do. Dean reassured himself that Cassie was in some fluffy cloud, happy and smiling.

“Right, one moose coming up” The demon said through his serpentine smile, the kind or curl to his lips that made Deans stomach twist uncomfortably. Maybe he should have been more specific, maybe the demon will give him Sam back but it wouldn't be _his_ Sam

“Wait, how do I know you're not going to cheat me?” Dean asked

“What? Do I -and by I, I mean this persons body whom I'm wearing that doesn't belong to me- look like someone who'll cheat you?” the demon gave him a look that would have seemed genuine if what he said hadn't sounded insane

Dean honestly didn't know what to say to that

“So... Can I trust you?” Dean said warily

“No you idiot, don't trust anyone, what I'm saying is I do my job properly and I'm not going to screw you over. Now come here and give me a smooch” the demon puckered up his lips

Dean took in a breath and leaned in.

 

 


	2. I can see your fear it surrounds you

Chapter two

Hell to Dean was more than he could ever imagine. Wide and gaping, a dark maw of despair and sorrow. Wreathed in black smoke, heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe. As soon as he heard the rip from where the hell hound pulled him clean in half he was transported to the pit. Chain links pushed through the skin, tendon, nerves and bone of his ankles and wrists, securing him amidst the wrathful clouds. Lighting bursting from the dark clouds and thunder rolling heavily. Blue and green fire burned bellow him, dimmed from the smoke, creating just enough light for Dean to see the figures that tortured him with torturous paraphernalia that he didn't even know how to explain if somebody were to ask what they were. Chains anchored to nothing criss-cross throughout the abyss. There were no tears or weeping, only screams of agony from disembodied souls that trembled throughout the space, filling the air, not unlike oceans sound during a storm. If Dean listened hard enough he could hear a far way chewing noise, like a giant beast devouring people in the distance. In this part of hell there was no Cerberus, no Styx, not even another human in sight, although from the shrill cries of voices begging for death once more, Dean swore they were screaming directly into his ears.   
Sometimes the rain and hail will come down, black and tainted, filthy tasting when it fell into his mouth. The rain would lick his skin, so boiling hot that it would burn right through his skin like acid. The hail would grow large, too cold to actually be ice, and as hard as any rock, and rain upon his naked body, breaking bones, and when there were no more bones to break it would pass right through him, tearing skin and muscle and hurdle into the fire bellow, and he would wait as some parts of him burned and others were hit until every little part of him had fallen into the fire, only then was his body remade and put back into the clouds again. The tempest would die down and he'd be defend by the screaming echoing in his head once more.

June 1957

“What did you do Dean, WHAT DID YOU DO?” Sam was livid, yelling at Dean while pacing around the room with his hands shaking, and Dean had never been happier for Sam to be angry at him  
“Sammy” Dean breathed, he couldn't manage anything else.   
“I was dead Dean, I know I was, I felt myself die, and now I'm back in our apartment and I know you're behind it somehow” Sam was fuming, he had his bitch face on and Dean had never found Sam’s face as beautiful as in that moment “Stop ignoring me Dean!”  
“I'm not, I'm not ignoring you, I'm just relived” Dean said with an airy smile “Maybe you should sit down, Sam” He didn't know if there was any strain on Sam's body after what happened, Sam didn't seem like he was in pain but Dean's natural concern for his little brother was on high alert after what happened. Sam took a seat but looked like he was going to start pacing around in circles any second.  
“Did you... What do you remember?” Dean asked, hoping that Sam hadn't gone to Hell, but he'd also feel guilty if he had snatched him away from Heaven  
“I don't know Dean, I just remember dying, I remember the blood gushing out of my body then everything going black and then waking up on my bed with a sore back”  
Dean had been half expecting to have to dig Sam up from the grave, which would have sucked because it was freezing outside. He had come back to the apartment to see if he had anything to use as a shovel when Sam had strolled out of his room, nearly giving Dean a heart attack.  
“How's your back now?” Dean asked  
“It's fine” Sam replied. Dean was about to get Sam to take his shirt off so he could have a look at it, just to make sure it really was 'fine' but before he could...  
“I told you I wouldn't cheat you” a rough voice with a British accent came from the kitchen  
Both boys jumped and spun their heads towards it, just behind the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen was the demon that Dean had made the deal with, a cup of whiskey in his hands.  
“Who are you?” Sam almost growled, his cat like eyes narrowing into slits  
“Now now, that's no way to treat someone who helped out your big brother, and consequentially brought you back to life” the demon took a sip of his drink  
Sam turned back to Dean, not even having to say anything before Dean sighed and gestured for Sam to sit down  
“You better get me a glass of that” Dean told the demon, pointing at his drink

 

“You sold your soul”   
“Yes”  
Sam ran a hand through his hair. Too long Dean thought to himself  
“That was stupid Dean, it wasn't worth it, you're worth so much more than that” Sam had tears in his eyes  
“Oh, it's not that great a soul to be honest” came an interjection  
“Shut it Crawly” Dean barked, although he knew it would do no good, the demon had been adding his annoying comments every few minutes while Dean told Sam what happened. How Sam was stabbed by the same people who killed Cassie. How shocked the man looked as Sam bled to death, like he hadn't meant to stab him in a place that would kill him. How Dean held him until authorities had pulled Sam's rigid body from his sore arms.  
“It's Crowley. CROWLEY”   
Dean ignored him  
“Did the police do anything” Sam asked  
“I tried to tell them Sammy, but those guys are real popular with the folk 'round here, they said they'll look into it but...” Dean trailed off “I don't think they did a damn thing Sam, I doubt the even bothered to mark you down as deceased, you still get mail”  
“Well, we can't stay here, can we?” Sam asked “I'm supposed to be dead”  
“We have nowhere to go” Dean ran his hand over his face  
“Well, the thing is...” Sam smiled and shot up to go to his room

“As heart warming as this family reunion is” Crowley said with a hand held over his heart “I'd best be on my way” Crowley let out a bored sigh  
“I don't know why you're here in the first place” Dean said  
“Just to tell you that you have ten years until I collect that soul of mine” Crowley replied, but Dean had a feeling that wasn't the only reason  
Dean nodded, trying to hide his shock. Honestly he has expected his soul to be taken immediately, he was grateful to get so long, but he wasn't going to tell Crowley that  
“Have fun” and the demon was gone

“I got accepted into Stanford” Sam announced as he walked back into the room, an acceptance letter from before he died in his hand  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
They spent the rest of that ten years together, and at first it was some of the best time of Deans life. Sam was studied Law at Stanford, Dean told him he was too emotional to be a lawyer, that he'd probably start crying in the courtroom and the only way he'd win cases would be because of his puppy eyes, but Sam knew Dean was proud of him, that Dean would tell people about how smart his little brother is and how Sam was going to be the best lawyer in the state. Dean working in a bar, he missed his own bar and hated serving the suits that walked in and didn't respond when he tried to make conversation, or the young people that couldn't handle their alcohol, but it paid for their food and bills. They lived in a one bedroom apartment together, at first Dean slept on a fold out couch since Sam was too tall for the bed let alone a fold out one, but they eventually they fit a mattress into one of the large storage rooms they had, and most might find it claustrophobic inducing but Dean found it cozy (although cramped) the walls wrapped around him comfortingly. No one knew them here, the people were friendly, and everything was great.


End file.
